


Spirits Desire

by valammar



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ancient Tevinter, Butchered Latin, Dragon Age Lore, Early Human Civilization in Thedas, Fade Demons, Fade Spirits, Gore, Mage Gladiators, Other, Revenge, Tevinter Imperium, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valammar/pseuds/valammar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valessa called the fishing village of Icosa her home until it was conquered under the expanding Tevinter Imperium. She and her family were carted far west to the volcanic city of Vol Dorma, home of dry heat and obsidian stone. Now, she trains at the ludus gladitorius as a Velox with the opportunity to earn her freedom if she can survive long enough. One night in her dreams, her desire for victory catches the ear of Volo, a powerful entity who wants nothing more than to join in the hedonistic indulgences of the Tevinter elite on the other side of the Veil. Together, they might both be able to get what they want. An Ancient Tevinter mage gladiator story.</p><p>"All that spirits desire, spirits attain." - Khalil Gibran</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The weapon smith’s hammer woke her before the pounding on her door. Between the soft whir of the grindstone and the rattling padlock being yanked from her door, any dregs of sleep had long left her.  

“Tempus est e somno expergiscendi!” A voice boomed. _It’s time to wake up_. She hated that voice. It was the same one that kicked her onto her knees, the top of her hand still raw and puckered from fresh, black ink.  

 _“Recito,”_ he’d commanded until she repeated her oath in their foreign tongue. She’d wanted to spit in his face afterward, but that voice didn’t allow eye contact. It was one of the first rules a new recruit learned at the ludus: keep your head down unless instructed otherwise. All she knew apart from that voice was the gnarled scar around his ankle. A dark pink ring, like the one her brother had after he’d gotten his arm tangled in a fishing net. In his struggle, the rope bore into his flesh while the weight of the ocean tried to pull him down to the sandy bottom below. It pained her to wish that it did. At least then he would have died in Icosa as a proud fisherman’s son instead of being carted off to the Orthlands where volcanic soot perfumed the air.  

Valessa rolled onto her feet and met him at the door, locking her eyes onto that pink strip above his left foot. Just as every other morning, he led her and the others single file to their morning meal in the mess hall upstairs. They were greeted by long tables set with heaping bowls of plump, hot grains, beans cooked in fat, and boiled potatoes. The food was bland and heavy, designed to give warriors and mages the energy they needed for an arduous day of training. She missed the lean foods of her youth: sweet, juicy fish and zesty seaweed. Now, those simple foods were catered only to Vol Dorma’s wealthy elite and so she’d better concentrate on gorging herself on the blandness before her if she ever wanted to taste her homeland again. 

Together, they trained, fought, bathed, and ate, so camaraderie was always high at meal times. Bound by the oath, the school became a brotherhood. When a skilled beast fighter named Marius lost his life after being pitted against a particularly vicious wyvern last month, those who could write notified his wife and children personally and they’d all gathered in the bath house to perform a private vigil. 

The second rule at the ludus was the most heavily enforced: one must adopt the language of the Archon and bow before the Old Gods. The oath demanded it. Valessa eyed the room while everyone filled their bowls and joked in Tevene. It wasn’t long before Tobius had the table roaring over his inappropriate hijinks from the night prior. Apparently two noble women had made requests to visit his cell, but they were both the wives of rival magisters.  

“…So I said, ‘Ladies, have you ever heard of a position called the _cum duo draconum_? You get on my cock facing that wall and _you_ sit on my shoulders facing _that_ wall and then we can all have fun without even having to look at each other!’” 

A young man laughed and slapped his chained hands on the table. His body was still slim and underfed, just as hers had once been. New recruits must wear shackles at all times until their physiques were fit and padded enough for combat. At Vol Dorma, all freedoms had to be earned.  

“Valessa,” Tobius said, turning to her from across the table. “Was that your very own amasius I heard coming from your cell last night?” He had a wide mouth with large teeth made even larger when he grinned. Everything about Tobius was imposing; from his massive shoulders and broad chest to his booming voice to his long, calloused fingers that could project a particularly deadly stream of lightning in close quarter combat. Even his personality, all boisterous charisma, felt like a huge, tangible thing that drew everyone’s eyes at the table. But they weren't looking at him anymore. They'd all landed on her, expectant.  

She already knew she’d earned a reputation as an ascetic for her constant refusals to imbibe, revel, or partake in another's company. Her heart hammered, half flustered, half confused.  

"You're mistaken," she replied. "More likely caught me talking in my sleep." 

His eyes narrowed before he tossed his head back, barking a laugh. "Oh, look at the little octopus – turning pale and retreating back into her cave! I know copulation when I hear it, and you, my friend, gave me and the two noble girls quite a race! You've made your old Caecus proud." 

Valessa swallowed to quench her arid throat while the two mages on either side of her gave her a playful slap on her back. For a moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of a newcomer at the table, drumming his fingers against the wood wildly with his lips curled into a twisted smirk. Of course.  _He_  was there, if only for a moment.  

The barley in her bowl had broken down into a dense, unappetizing paste but she knew the penalty of leaving her serving uneaten. She held her breath, shoving the last few handfuls into her mouth, and chewed thoroughly – all while planning a few course words with _him_  once training commenced. 


	2. Chapter 2

Outside, the training yard appeared stark under the morning sun. Builders used compacted ash for making bricks, and most of Vol Dorma was constructed from the drab grey stone or glossy obsidian as a show of opulence. With black volcanic sand between her toes, it felt like the abyss was trying to swallow her whole; pulling her further from the light each day – not that the sunlight was any more preferable. Valessa could feel its oppressive rays cooking her skin while she finished buckling the last of her leathers.

She recalled the suffocating heat and searing metal around her ankles as she and the other captives stood on a platform in the market for purchase. One by one, they were bartered: captives from eastern towns, the same as she. She watched men holler their offers in Tevene when one in the crowd pointed a clean, manicured finger directly at her. His silken grey robe fit without a wrinkle, held together over his well-fed frame on gold epaulets.

_He turned to the slave trader, asking a question with curious inflection. He nodded in return and yanked her forward to stand directly in front of him._

_“Tue!" He barked an order and gestured for her to open her palms._

_“I don’t understand,” she mumbled, disoriented from a lack of food and water. This sting from the trader’s rod against her backside caught her off-guard and Valessa toppled, landing face-to-face with the man._

_“Flamma ignatio,” he said again through crooked teeth and crimson gums. In spite of his unfortunate mouth, the man smelled heavily of violets, as if he’d doused his head in a vat of fresh blooms. He was evidently a man of status, given the crowd’s reluctance to cross his path – some changing their trajectory entirely to avoid accidentally brushing against him. Valessa watched him gesture with his palm again, this time raising it until it was eye level. A bright flash made her blink, and then she watched as his hand became engulfed in amber flames._

_“Et tue?” He asked._

Oh.

_A black stone statue stood at the center of the market, clad in shimmering armor. Fire flickered in its outstretched palm, just as his did. Suddenly, it made sense. Back in Icosa, there were stories of only one woman before her who could summon the elements as she did; who claimed to hear the whispers of dreamers. As the story goes, she’d been cast out of the village after bringing about an unspoken calamity. Rather than live a life of exile for her crime, she chose her own death by wading into the sea - where all are born and all will return. The villagers believed that she still wandered above the waves, summoning catastrophic tides toward any boat that ventured out toward a nearby inlet. Valessa’s parents believed it to be no more than a cautionary tale until their own daughter spoke of whispers in the night._

_Struggling to sit up, she lifted her own hand. Concentrating, she felt the familiar tingle coursing through her, up from her belly and through her arm, just as the voices taught her to do, until her fingers crackled and glowed with a pure, hot blaze. It took all the energy she could muster, but he nodded his approval. The man turned back to the trader and they conversed in more phrases she couldn’t understand. When his henchman pulled her exhausted body off of the platform, one word in particular stood out._

“Velox!” A voice called her to attention and drew her out of her solipsism. Fastening the last buckle, she scurried down the hallway to make Doctore’s inspection.

Doctore, the lead instructor, was a proud man with wide, dark eyes and hair like cinders. He inspected every warrior before and after training, ensured their injuries were properly treated, and gave them their daily tonic: ash and water. Vol Dorman’s believed their volcanic surroundings to be nutrient-dense and the chalky drink an elixir for good health. He presented her a cup and another to Tobius upon joining them.

“Drink up, you two. You’ll be the first pair to train.”

“I’ve had piss that tasted better,” Tobius groaned before downing the cup in one gulp. “But that’s a tale for another time.”

“And a darkly humorous one, I’m sure,” she retorted while trying not to gag on the mixture.

Tobius scrubbed a hand across his beard to remove any remaining ash. “Ready for defeat, Velox?”

“Only for yours, Caecus.”

He laughed. “Oh, my little octopus. You get feistier every day.” He turned toward the ring and settled his glistening steel helmet onto his head.

It was the signature helmet that made a Caecus. The tall, pointed shape covered the top half of his face with horizontal spires that jutted out on either side of the narrow eye openings, leaving the wearer practically blinded. A solid chest plate kept his hulking form grounded, but left the sides open for attack. To the audience, he was a representation of magic’s brute force. Tobius didn’t carry a staff into battle. Instead, he wore a glowing belt equipped with vials of lyrium, a mystical substance gifted by the Ambassadoria from the Dwarven city of Kal Sharok.

A Velox, on the other hand, fitted her lithe body in leathers that allowed for greater agility and movement. Speed was imperative for survival. Valessa wasn’t granted lyrium and must rely on her body’s own reserves. Taking her staff in-hand - a slim rod set with a crystal at the tip - Velox showcased a mage’s endurance. Together, they formed a fusion of both strength and intellect.

“All right!” Doctore spoke up. “We’ve only one month before the next game…”

While he discussed the week’s training itinerary, Valessa’s eyes wavered to a shadow peering from behind a nearby column. Good to see that _he_ was willing to uphold his end of the bargain.

“Velox! In position!” Doctore barked.

“Ready!” She said, shaking her head and concentrating on Tobius again. She knew he couldn’t see her through his helmet, but he flashed a cocky grin.

“Good. Assume your stances, and… _initium!_ ”

She could smell the electricity he was conjuring when Tobius took a massive step forward. He had one hand outstretched and the other reached for a vial around his belt. He pulled the cork with his teeth and guzzled it within a blink. The blue liquid amplified his power for short bursts, making him nearly deadly in close quarter combat – which is specifically how Velox and Caecus were expected to fight. Crowds cheered when rows of slaves rolled out the massive spikes that created the confined fighting area, adding an extra element of danger for them both. One clumsy move could result in serious injury, or worse.

While the games featured such a grand spectacle, the two practiced within a designated circle on the training grounds and Doctore supervised, calling out penalties whenever either mage stepped out of bounds.

Valessa was never a keen warrior, but to her credit she’d been blessed with a strong sense of spatial awareness. When Tobius unleashed his first blast of blue lightning on her right, she made a dash to the left to dodge. He listened for her feet shifting in the sand and swung an arm out wide in an attempt to knock her over. She responded with a tumble, twisting her abdominals to smack his arm back with her staff.

They circled each other for another moment when she felt it; like a tickle of breath at the back of her neck. _His_ presence was easy to identify. It buzzed in her mind like an incessant melody. As if _he_ stood directly behind her, his velvety voice gave her the next command.

_He’s noticed you favor your left. He’s going to summon a bolt aimed at your shoulder. Right…now!_

Without enough time to react, Valessa surged her torso to the right, spinning on her other foot to draw enough momentum to swing her staff _hard_ into his ribcage.

Tobius was as tough as he looked, but she heard him wince when the crystal tip made impact.

_Watch your back! He’s trying to push you down._

Valessa ducked, instead aiming to take a quick swing at his knees. The rod wasn’t dense enough to knock anyone of his size over, but even a moment of well-placed pain could turn the fight in her favor. He snarled and lunged forward, compacting his hands into a fireball.

_He’s aiming it at your middle! Left, right, it doesn’t matter, just get out of the way!_

The flame surged toward her, and she panicked. It struck her between the ribs and she let out a harsh grunt, sending her stumbling backward from the searing pain.

_No, take another step and you’re out of bounds!_

“Penalty! Velox, get back inside the circle!” Doctore’s voice boomed.

 _My stars, you’re losing. Horrendously, might I add. Why don’t you let_ me _take over_?

“Why? So you can keep making the others think that I’m…entertaining some nobleman?”

_You’re welcome for that, by the way. Now they all think you’re fun! Besides, would you rather they hear us conspiring?_

“…No,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Doctore asked.

“I said I’ll _go_!” She improvised. Getting her breathing under control, she launched herself back at Tobius with full force, sending a shard of ice straight for the narrow opening in his helmet. Anger fueled her next strike when she swung her staff into his side again with enough strength that the flesh already began to bruise. He stumbled dangerously close to the boundary and pulled out another vial.

_He’s weakened! You might win yet, little – what does he call you? Squid?_

“Just tell me what to do next!” Valessa hissed.

_No time. Duck!_

Another bolt of hot lightning shot from his hands with enough force that she could hear him overexert himself. Without lyrium, it would take all of her magical energy to defeat him. Was he worn down enough for her final blow?

_My, my, my, the big guy is impressed! That only means he intends to go harder on you. Be a dear and take three steps to your right lest we both fry._

The fight continued for a time with Tobius doing his best to stun her while she hit him with her rod. He reached for the last vial at his belt and drank it down.

_This appears to be our momentum veritatis, it seems. He’s attempting to electrify the very ground we stand on._

“What do I do?”

_It can’t hurt me. Let me in, Valessa, and I can see your victory through._

“Not a chance.”

It almost felt like a heavy sigh against her head. _Very well. How long can you humans stay suspended in midair?_

“…I have an idea.” It was a risk, but given _his_ intuition, he could sense it, too.

_Oh, that would be impressive, to say the least. He won’t be expecting it. Give it a try._

“And if I lose?” she asked, circling her opponent.

_Then maybe you might consider an addendum to our little arrangement._

“You wish.”

_Oh, I very much do._

She could feel the ground heating below her, causing the sand to crackle and spurt into hot shards of glass. If she tried to dodge his attacks, she'd succumb to dozens of cuts from below.

Valessa inhaled, taking in as much air as she could, and concentrated on the way her lungs exhaled to cool each breath from within. Colder and colder, she felt her feet prickle as ice crystals began to form a barrier on the soles of her feet. Soon, the ice had climbed its way up to her knees, leaving her protected when Tobius finally unleashed his last assault with a loud roar.

Dazzling jolts pricked her skin as she took to running, crunching the glass beneath her encased feet and using what remained of her power to plant her staff into the ground. Leaping forward, she gripped the wood in both hands and hurled both of her feet into his ribs again which brought the ice to shatter.

 Tobius cried out and plummeted to the ground, ultimately stopping his spell. He hit the sand with a skid and for a moment Valessa was afraid she might have seriously hurt him.

Then, she heard him chuckle.

“Victory to Velox!” Doctore cried out and the other warriors applauded.

“Tobius, are you all right?”

The large man pulled off his helmet, revealing black and blue bruising on the bridge of his nose where the ice shard hit him. “The little octopus is getting clever! You’ve done me proud twice today!”

That night, when their wounds were bandaged and their evening meal eaten, she sat on her bed to the light of the moon. A guard knocked twice at the door and asked her if she was interested in taking a lover for the night. As always, she declined.

She wasn’t alone, anyway. _His_ physical presence was even more obvious. There was an energy concentrating itself to the very back corner of her cell, like a predator lurking in the dark.

“I know you’re there, Volo,” she said.


	3. Chapter 3

The dark mass swirled in the corner like squid ink. She watched it stretch and manifest into a human form – a man’s shadow humorously sprung to life, punctuated by two gleaming, green eyes. Valessa scoffed when he fully conjured. His pallid, sickly skin indicated a life untouched by labor, and his cropped, fluffy hair was at the height of Tevinter fashion. Or so she presumed, for it was they who most inspired his arrogant stride, sinewy build, and angular features. With Valessa confined to her cell, Volo could move about the region freely and stay up-to-date on the Imperium’s trends. Another advantage to their relationship, apart from his uncanny ability to convey her opponents’ thoughts.  

And a trend update might just be what inspired him to don the violet satin robe he presented himself in, covered in a maze of impractical leather straps and buckles. His grin was an almost unwholesome imitation, but she’d come to know enough of his interests to recognize that he wanted praise for his newfound sartorial status.  

“What do you think?” he asked, smoothing his hand over the fabric. “It’s all the rage in Minrathous.” 

Valessa barely concealed a snicker.  

“May the gods of the mist and ocean bless you,” she chastised. “You look ridiculous.”   

“Now, now,” he tutted, “you don’t want to get caught with that kind of blasphemous language around the guards. Glory to the Dragon Gods and all that.” 

“And you wouldn’t want to get caught around your idol Tobius looking like the world’s most complicated table cloth.” 

“Far be it from me to shun his proclivities. I’d like to think he’d offer the same courtesy. Does he ever talk about me?” 

“He doesn’t know you exist.” 

“…Right. Because of our arrangement.” Valessa tensed when he lowered his chin and took two languid steps closer to where she sat, his luminous eyes gazing down at her with serpent-like pupils. He could never get the eyes right. “Today’s training took some calculating, I’ll admit, but we can’t afford such daring risks with the next game looming over us.” 

“What are you suggesting, exactly?” 

Volo leaned closer and she felt the cool catch of sea mist against her sun-bronzed cheeks. Suddenly, his breath became the wind whipping through a fisherman’s sails and he gave a rolling sigh like waves along the shore of her beloved Icosa. What she would give to set foot in her homeland again – how desperately she wanted… 

 _Wanted._ In an instant, she felt the rough stone of her cell against her feet with the realization that she’d been enticed by one of his illusions.  

“You _know_ my suggestion,” he murmured, voice fruity and full of delicious promise.  

Valessa swallowed, tremulous. She knew he carried an almost irresistible magnetism, and a mage with less resolve could have fallen prey long ago.  

“Absolutely not.” 

“Let me in, Valessa,” he purred. 

“Not until you’ve completed your part of the bargain.”  

“Once you’ve had your revenge, freed your family, and watched Vol Dorma crumble. I know. Being your naughty little secret is all honey and wildflowers, truly, but there’s one way I can _guarantee_ that our plan will work. You can sense it, too.” He pointed a manicured fingernail at her temple and twirled it through the ringlets of her hair before she swatted his hand. “Go on then: let me wriggle around inside that cunning little mind of yours and we can bring those nobles to their knees.” 

By the gods, how his words could warm her to the bone when she let down her defenses. Still, the exchange became an expected part of her encounters with the man – creature – whatever. With vigilance, he’d subside.  

“We follow my plan, as promised. You help me win by _my_ _rules_ until the last shackle on my family falls. Then, and only then, will we join.” 

Volo leaned his face toward hers, their noses a hair apart. "Are you _certain_?"  

"I know what I want, Volo." 

Breaking eye contact, he stepped back and Valessa relaxed. She knew he was posturing; offering a reminder that he was dangerous, but she knew that his threats came with a caveat. Without a willing human host, he was relatively powerless. All she needed to do was keep her wits about her and he'd remain her subordinate. 

"Suit yourself. You're tenacious, I'll give you that." 

"Why, I thought my tenacity was what drew you to me?" 

He gave a lilt laugh – another quality he couldn't quite nail down. "That, and your _hunger_. You resonate with this yen for freedom. It's so strong, so alluring, so...exhilarating. I'd never heard anything quite like it." 

"Exhilarating?" She repeated, quirking an eyebrow. "What do you mean you heard it?" 

"Desire _is_ my modus operandi, after all," he said, indicating that as the only explanation he'd offer. "It called to me; rumbled through the Veil like a chorus of drums." 

"And before that?"  

On all matters related to his origins, Volo divulged little. Most of the time he was as unpredictable as the raging sea, and at least twice as capricious. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to close it when the guard pounded at the door. 

 _Shit._ The same guard who'd offered her company knowing full well she'd declined, thus demanding the identity of the man with whom she carried on a conversation. It took less than a second for Volo's black mist make a trajectory toward the open grate.  

"Now, now, hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to interrupt?" He'd manifested in an instant, glowing eyes leering. The man protested again, demanding the nature of his presence. 

Volo tsked with the crook of a finger, managed to lull the guard into a catatonic state. "That's better. If I recall, there's a frisky little fox who works down in the kitchens and has been _eagerly_ looking forward to meeting you. Why not introduce yourself to her? Off you go, then." 

The guard nodded through half-lidded eyes and sauntered away. Her cellmate grinned, as if awaiting her praise. "He won't remember me. Your dirty secret is still safe." 

"Yes, we're both safe thanks to your ability to ignite the passions between a scullery maid and a standing  guard." 

"Everyone has a lust you can exploit, Valessa. I simply have a knack for sensing what it is." 

"Well, I hope they're very happy together." 

"Oh, they are. Trust me. In fact, right now she's—" 

"Uh-uh!" Valessa halted him, crinkling her sunburned nose. "Let's leave it just between them, thank you." 

He flashed his straight, pearlescent teeth. "Still not interested in fun, I see." 

She rolled her eyes and flattened herself on the bed, staring at the rivers of cracks on the ceiling. From outside, the weaponsmith punctuated the silence of her cell with rhythmic strikes against his anvil. After a few moments she spoke. 

"You were about to say something to me before. About what were you doing? Before we met?"  

"'Before we met?'" She sensed him move toward her from the door, the scent of briny sea air growing stronger with each step.  

"It's late," he said, changing the subject. "There are only a few short weeks until the next match. You should rest." 

She sighed heavily. Volo was as leery to disclose as ever, but he was also right. Her sides ached from training, and her feet were still stiff from frost and glass. Proper sleep was crucial for her recovery and survival. 

"How far can you travel at will?" She asked. 

"Unlike you, I have absolutely no restraints. Time, or otherwise." 

"May I ask you another favor?" 

"Depends. Is it a naughty favor?"  

"The noble who put me here," she said, revealing the ink brand on her hand. "This is his house marking. Go to him. Watch him. Tell me more of who he is." 

Volo shifted closer, studying the visage of two entangled serpents. "A scouting mission to a manor, brimming with temptation and excess? My girl, you spoil me." 

"Don't get distracted, Volo." 

He curled his lips, backing away again. "I always come through, do I not? Sleep well, Valessa." 

"Goodnight," she said. 

The inky black cloud dissipated and with it, his presence. Valessa closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the lingering scent of splashing waves.  


	4. Chapter 4

_Vol Dorma_.  

Those three syllables occupied a liminal line of longing since the moment he met her. He'd grown fond of humanity's myopia. Even in the Fade, their aspirations remained the same: sex and glory. Their minds burned for them with bright white hunger. Early on, he'd learned that for some with a penchant for entrepreneurship, one made a career out of fulfilling physical desires for currency.  

Heroes, to the very last one.   

Every inch of the expansive metropolis enthralled him. Strolling through the brothels that flourished with abundant ebullience kept him invigorated, though nothing compared to the machinations of the manor district. Behind every door a new conspiracy; inside every courtyard a new tryst. 

And Volo could sense it all. Until he'd achieved flesh, he would happily spend his time growing fat on their gluttony. Drunk off their drunkenness. 

"Here we are. Lovely." 

Compared to the ostentation of Minrathous, the regia could be considered humble. He stood atop a stone staircase that was set with a mosaic of the same crest that marked his companion's fist. Two intertwining serpents formed a haphazard circle, their fangs bared against an unseen opponent: the symbol of House Morsus. 

Altus Tacitus Morsus, he’d come to learn, owned a series of mills and maintained himself as the city's leading supplier of grain. A distinguished noble with a strong magical heritage, he also held a seat at the senate where he and his peers took every opportunity to suppress social advancements of the soparati. In his pastime, he attended the games as an honored patron.  

Cloaking himself in front of human eyes had many advantages, such as sneaking past guardsmen to peruse classified government archives. Vol Dorma's census records were _very_ thorough, though scrolls had the misfortune of being bereft of emotion. If he wanted to truly understand the man, he'd need to explore his home.  

"You don't mind if I pay your master a visit, do you?" A stalwart guard stood by the door, spear at his side.  

 _Veteran, paid for vigilance. Servant, not slave. Waiting, watching without weariness_ _._  

Funny, how willingly non-mages protect their elite overseers with the promise of rank and reward. The upper crust kept them under control with so little effort. 

"Don't bother with the gate. I'll just let myself in." Confident he could see nor hear him, Volo stepped inside. 

The halls sang with pleasure and leisure aplenty. Daughters took their meal in the triclinium on silken pillows, delighting in the coolness against their skin in the pulsing heat. If only he had the capacity for taste. The Fade sent him whispers of honey on their tongues; sighs of salt; and the sweet, effervescent thrum of wine. Their nearly palpable indulgence lured him closer. Three of them, clad in the ebony robes of young mages, lounged before a raised hearth. No flicker of flame spat from its core, but instead an icy mist. Curious. 

 _Heavy humidity. Plump sweat drops st_ _aining my skirt. Cheeks prickle;_ _soothed by peacock blue stone._  

He peeked at the artifact on the table before him. The rune was no larger than an amulet yet emitted a dense frost, enough to put smiles of relief on the girls' faces. Strange, sustaining magic emanated from within yet Volo could detect no mana residue from the luxuriating trio. 

"How Valessa would sneer at the sight of you," he mused. 

That unusual girl. Completely antithetical to her sparring mate, Tobius. Now _there_ was a human who lived his truth. Even immured in a stone cell, he always took time for physical gratification. There was a transparency about him; something so elementally revealing in every choice he made. Valessa failed to see the honesty in his fornications, but Volo held respect for the man’s willingness to be so comfortably, so widely, so openly vulnerable.  

He smirked at the absurd thought of his comrade, all wide steel eyes and dappled skin, splayed and sweat-soaked and succumbing to carnal lust. She had yet to consider it an asset to their plan, and fervently denied that sex opened portals for previously unexplored paths of connection. No, her passions went deeper. To be fair, those motivations enticed him more than any wine. 

She knew it, too. That puny human, with her stocky legs and unkempt golden-brown hair, had him in her thrall. The prosperity of the upper class meant that all wants were met. Amidst so much excess there was little room for desire to flourish. Valessa's only festered and grew, and Volo coveted every moment. 

Even _he_ had his vices. 

The farther he traveled from Vol Dorma, the more he felt tethered to her. She gathered an energy around her that quickened the air and galvanized action. It's easy to guess that her sponsor felt the same magnetism.  

Speaking of such, a particular power radiated from behind a door at the end of the great hall.  He approached the carved wood and saw another rune installed where a lock – or guardsman – would be. The etching differed from the previous one, and seemed to spice the air with an electrical current, ready to stun intruders or thieves who dared to breach it.   

"Well, well, well. Looks like our friend has something he wants to keep a secret," he muttered.  

If there was one benefit to residing in the Fade, it was that enchanted doors were of no consequence. When he phased to the other side, he felt supercharged. It couldn't have been the elemental magic. No, it was as if the room itself produced a proverbial quickening of his pulse. The walls resonated with adrenaline. When he took note of what lined the walls, he understood why: 

 _Blood_ ** _._** Clay containers full of it on inset shelves. Not old, dried and blackened, but _living_. Surging in place by an unseen force.  

"All right," he said. "Logically, I'm compelled to ask _how_ , but for curiosity's sake I want to know _why_." 

Then he felt them. Heard them. A chorus, chiseling its way into every fiber of his form.  

 _No shields. No staffs. I fight for honor, not to delay my death--_  

 _I have but one life to give, and I gladly offer it to the game--_  

 _Finger raised, yet no reprieve. Let my sacrifice inspire those who follow my footsteps--_  

Volo stepped backward, desperate to silence their cries. Mage blood. Not just any, but that of venerated warriors in the ring. Somehow, he'd managed to collect and keep their life force as some sort of token or memento.  

Tacitus took his fanaticism for the game farther than he thought Valessa would ever expect, but what did this mean for her future? 

A commotion in the hall alerted him and Volo ventured out to investigate once more.  

"Shipment!" A graveled voice called for the housekeeper, though he couldn't focus on anything other than the man's physique: short, barely half the size of a human child and yet fully grown. His fiery hair and beard brushed against a bronze breastplate and leather greaves. His Tevene was heavy with accent, though it was one he couldn't identify. 

In fact, he couldn't identify anything about the halfling at all. Volo circled him in a vain attempt to glean a modicum of information but felt only silence. 

"Strange. Why can't I read you?" His eyes darted to the shipping crate he carted and noticed a familiar flash of peacock blue. This must be the family's rune supplier. 

The gentle pad of footsteps caught his attention and he raised his head to the woman approaching the door. When he met a familiar pair of steely grey eyes, he froze. 

That face—her, but not her. Calmer, like the passing of a storm. Wiry hair flecked with gold and grey.  

 _That face_. He'd seen it in the Fade a thousand times, paired with an invigorating longing. His companion never spoke her name, but he'd known it all along. 

"Valnora," he gasped. 

The woman quirked her head and, for a brief moment, appeared to be looking directly at him as if she heard him speak. Her weary eyes shifted to her delivery guest, and she silently took the crate from his hands. Volo saw the imprint of shackles on her wrist. 

"This excursion just got a lot more interesting." 

He had to tell Valessa. If she knew her mother resided in the same home as her patron, she may grow desperate. Maybe this was the advantage he needed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, the inspiration for this piece came from me thinking, "Wouldn't it be cool if Tevinter had mage gladiators?" Set at the very dawn of humanity in Thedas where mages fight for glory in honor of the Old Gods. Elves have yet to make an appearance on their timeline, the Dwarven empire is expansive and magnificent, and the Fade is a mystery. Enjoy!


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